Baba
Ajit Singh, the Unconquerable
Waheguru ji ka khalsa
Waheguru ji ki fateh
The following is part of a
presentation I recently wrote for the Khalsa Council. I have
taken some literary liberties by presenting this in first-
person format. This requires some extrapolation of feelings
and thoughts with very little research data available - especially
with Guru Sahib's younger sons. I had to rely on my heart
and my meditation. And, of course, who really knows what was
in the mind of these incredible and brilliant incarnations!
But, by taking the chance and putting the piece in first person
- it creates a hologram effect and Baba Ajit Singh Maharaj
seems to materialize before us.
I hope you understand the spirit
in which it was done, and I apologize in advance for my errors
and my arrogance.
Shanti Kaur
I, Baba Ajit Singh, was born
on January 7th, 1687. From my earliest days, I was trained in
the skills of a saint-soldier of the Khalsa. As I grew into
a young man I became proficient in the use of all weapons, and
especially the bow and arrow and the sword.
I was twelve years old when I
witnessed my father give the call to all Sikhs on Baisakhi 1999.
Even though I was young, my heart swelled with "bir ras",
the nectar of courage, at the call from my marvelous father
to the sangat for a man to come forward and give his head. I
yearned to stand next to him on that day, and it was only the
hands of my mother, and her gentle reminder of my young years,
that held me back.
From that day forward, no danger
could daunt or deter me from my path of duty as the eldest son
of the 10th Guru. When I was 16, I wanted to take my place in
the ranks of the great Guru's army. However, I was too shy to
speak directly in my father's presence, so I asked Ude Singh,
one of the Guru's brave generals, to speak for me. The Guru
was very pleased to hear my request, and he gave me command
of one hundred soldiers.
Once, a Brahmin came to the Guru
and complained that his newly wedded wife had been kidnapped
by the Pathans of Bassi. The Guru expressed that he wanted to
help this man in need. I knew this was my chance to prove myself,
and I stood before my father without hesitation.
"Father," I said, "I
have studied and practiced daily in the art of war. Let me go.
Let me lead the Sikhs in protection of these people who need
our help."
Even though I was young, my father
agreed. With a band of brave Sikhs, we marched towards Bassi
in the cover of night. By God's grace I was successful, and
I returned to Anandpur on the following morning not only with
the Brahmin's wife, but also with the guilty Pathans in chains.
The Sikhs who fought by my side that night told the story of
my fearless and unwavering nature.
As I grew up, the situation for
the Sikhs in Anandpur Sahib became increasingly dangerous. Three
times I joined my father in battle to defend the fort and by
my seventeenth birthday, I was experienced in battle and respected
as a military commander.
Wrung by anger and jealousy,
the Mughal armies had laid a deadly siege to our city, forcing
the Sikhs to evacuate Anandpur Sahib on December 20, 1704. I
rode proudly next to my father during the final preparations
and departure from the fort. As the sangat left the safety of
the fort they had to cross the cold and dangerous waters of
the river Sarsa. Even though the Mughal emperor had given the
Sikhs a guarantee of safe passage, it was here that the treacherous
Mughal army attacked us from behind. In the darkness and confusion
that ensued, my soldiers and I turned without hesitation to
meet the enemy and hold them at bay while the rest of the Guru's
party crossed the rain flooded river. I fought with courage,
and it is said that I chopped off enemy heads like melons in
a field. When my father had safely crossed, we again joined
up with the Guru.
Guru Gobind Singh and 40 of the
Khalsa, including my younger brother and me, moved quickly through
the night and took shelter in a small mud fort at Chamkaur.
The Guru began preparing for battle as the enemy amassed a hundred
thousand troops on the horizon. Hopelessly outnumbered, it was
the firm resolve of each of the forty Sikhs to fight to the
last drop of blood. We should have been afraid, but we were
not. Being so close to the Guru filled us with a light so hot,
there was no room for fear.
Six Sikhs went out from the improvised
fort, to delay the advance of the enemy. The Guru devised a
new pattern for fighting. Two Sikhs would stand back to back,
and in that way form a single entity. With four arms and four
legs, covering all directions, they moved out into the enemy
ranks. They fought bravely and amazed the mughal soldiers with
their skill and effectiveness, holding off the advancing troops.
Swirling and slashing their swords, the few Sikhs wreaked mighty
destruction in the ranks of the mughals. The strategy worked,
and the huge army could not take the mud fort during the entire
day. When the first group succumbed to the overwhelming odds,
six more Sikhs volunteer to enter the battlefield.
Filled with the fury of battle,
I placed my head on my father's feet and asked permission to
go forth and fight the enemy. Guru Gobind Singh, my father and
my everlasting lord, understood this was our last meeting together
on this earth. Smiling, my eternally loving father gave permission
for me to enter the battlefield. I took five brave Sikhs with
me who had fought by my side before, and stepped out through
the gates.
We fought with a fierce fury
and mughals fell beneath our powerful steel. Each second slowed
in time, and it seemed that the enemy moved in slow motion against
my lightening speed. As quick as they came forward, so quickly
I drew their blood. When my arrows were spent and my sword was
broken, I still did not stop. I whirled and jumped, spitting
the enemy with my spear. When my spear snapped, the enemy soldiers
saw that I finally stood with bare hands. With a great yell,
they rushed together and made a fresh attack. Under the force
of their great numbers, I was martyred.
As my soul rose above the blood
soaked earth, I heard my father call out from the roof, saying,
"O God, it is You who sent him, and he has died fighting
for his faith. This gift You have given to the earth has now
been restored to You."
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